


As long as we're together

by secretsinmysoul



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, HYDRA hurt Bucky, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Steve will kiss it better, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:11:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3118034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsinmysoul/pseuds/secretsinmysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has been on the run from HYDRA, S.H.I.E.L.D, and even Steve for over a month. Out of the hands of HYDRA scientists for the first time, his body is suffering. He's having withdrawal symptoms from the drugs they used to control him. In no state to defend himself from his enemies he turns to Steve for help. Comforting and fluff ensues. </p><p>"There was one thing Bucky Barnes was sure of at this moment in time: withdrawals fucking suck."</p>
            </blockquote>





	As long as we're together

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short one shot of mushy hurt/comfort I felt compelled to write at 1am. Hope you guys enjoy.  
> As always comments and feedback are greatly appreciated.  
> (Also as mentioned this fic contains references to past drug use and descriptions of withdrawal symptoms so don't read if that might upset you in any way, be safe!)

There was one thing Bucky Barnes was sure of at this moment in time: withdrawals fucking suck.

It hadn’t taken long, after the events on the Triskelion, for Bucky to start to recover his memories. It finally made sense why – to his knowledge - his handlers had never kept him out of cryofreeze for more than a week or two consecutively.

After a month out on his own, jumping from safe house to safe house and barely getting by, his mind opened like a flood gate and the memories of James Barnes (and sadly those of the winter soldier) came pouring into view.

Oh, and the withdrawal symptoms started.

He’d never complained when they’d hooked him up to the IV, nor had he asked what was being pumped through his veins. Even when he’d felt like he was burning from the inside out he’d never complained or struggled. It was against his programming.

It took Bucky a while to realise that the shaking, sweating and insomnia weren’t just a part of his recovery from the memory loss, the cryogenic freezing or the guilt and trauma his handlers had inflicted upon him; they were symptoms of a drug withdrawal.

He realised when he found himself rubbing at the spot on his arm where they used to inject him. He’d seen addicts do that before and consequently realised he was a sort of non-consensual addict himself.

And it was fucking awful. He felt nauseous, he couldn’t sleep, and would shake and sweat no matter how warm he managed to keep. Worst of all Bucky was on the run and in no fit state to fight anyone – completely unable to defend himself from the likes of HYDRA or anyone else who had a score to settle with the winter soldier.

He knew Steve was looking for him. He knew because he’d catch sight of Steve leaving a safe house he’d had been staying in. Bucky would subsequently immediately vacate said safe house when he’d find the place ransacked, nothing left in there but a note left by Steve begging for Bucky to talk to him or to at least accept his help.

See the thing was, Bucky supposed he had a choice: turn to Steve or let whichever enemy found him first kill him.

It was a more difficult decision to Bucky than it would have appeared to anyone else.

As far as he was concerned, he deserved to die. More than half of the acts he was made to commit as the soldier would have awarded him the death sentence. So, according to the law and most people’s moral views his life wasn’t worth a lot. It certainly was worth fuck all to Bucky himself.

It was worth everything to Steve, though.

He wrote that on his stupid notes but he didn’t need to. Bucky had got into the habit, in the past month, of hiding and watching Steve sketch, talk with Sam, eat, do anything really. Bucky indulged his habit more often than he cared to admit. It soothed the all-encompassing ache that had come to constantly consume his body.

Anyway, by Bucky’s estimation Steve looked like hell (and like an angel all at the goddamn same time). He clearly hadn’t been sleeping, was barely eating and Bucky could swear he’d seen him late at night, staring up at the stars and crying. Crying for Bucky, his lost best friend who only semi-existed.

Bucky saw at the Smithsonian exhibition how much it had hurt Steve to lose his best guy. Peggy Carter had given video testimony about how she’d found him drinking in an abandoned bar, blaming himself for Bucky’s fall and swearing to burn HYDRA to the ground.

He also remembered the nights he’d spent as Bucky Barnes clutching a skinny Steve Roger’s hand as he trembled and coughed and had his last rites read.

He remembered the terror he’d felt, more strong than any fear a war or a team of Nazi scientists could ever instil in him. The man he’d been back then would’ve given anything and everything he had to keep Steve Rogers alive. He would’ve sat with him for a thousand nights if it meant he’d always make it to morning.

That was one thing he knew he still shared with the man he’d been in the past.

Because he watched Steve on those nights he stood stargazing, and felt like he was sitting at the bedside of that skinny kid from Brooklyn praying that no harm would ever come to him. Vowing to do anything and everything to keep him alive and well. Steve was the best of him, then, now and forever.

If Bucky died who would watch Steve’s six?

Sure he had friends but Bucky was certain that none of them felt the way he did for Steve. His dedication to the man ran so deep he could feel it in his otherwise hollow, aching bones.

So that’s how Bucky found himself rapping on the window of Steve Roger’s bedroom at one in the morning.

When Steve saw him there he ran to the window frantically, eyes wide with disbelief, and helped Bucky through. No questions asked, no weapons bared. God, he really did need Bucky – the kid still had more trust than sense.

“Bucky? Are you okay? You look --”

“Like shit. I know, Steve. Look I’m sorry. I remember most of it, being your Bucky and their soldier and I’m not sure who the hell I am now but --”

“I don’t care, I don’t care, Buck. You came here right? So you must need something. Help or a place to stay?”

“I…I think I’m going through withdrawal.” Bucky stuttered out between shivers.

“As in…a drug withdrawal?”

“They pumped me full of God knows what for God knows how long and I…I’ve been alone for over a month now and I think my body…it needs --”

 “You gotta ride it out.” Steve finished for him.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, “shit my whole body is fucked; headaches, nausea, a dull pain that I can feel _everywhere_ and I mean _everywhere,_ Stevie.”

“And you’re shaking,” Steve pointed out, “like a leaf. Have you eaten?”

Bucky shook his head. “Not hungry. Haven’t been hungry for days.”

“I don’t care. You need food, Bucky. Sit down on the bed, or have a shower if you think it’ll help and I’ll make you some real food.” Steve’s tone was more authoritarian than Bucky could remember ever having heard it.

“Woah, yes Captain.” Bucky said, heading to the shower. Steve smiled at his feet.

“And Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m so glad you’re here. However you’ve changed I…I just…can’t wait to get to know you all over again.”

Bucky was taken by surprise; Steve’s expression of such raw emotion sent a physical pang through his heart. It had been a while since his body had felt anything but pain and guilt. He felt warm.

“Yeah, I’m glad you’re here too,” Bucky whispered, before adding: “you old sap.”

A hot shower and a sandwich later, Bucky had changed into Steve’s more comfortable clothes and was riding out a fever in his bed.

Steve was sat by his side, touching a wet flannel to his forehead.

“How the tables have turned, huh Stevie.” Bucky remarked, his voice thick with tiredness and slow from fever.

Steve snorted, “Yeah well think of it as me returning the favour.”

“You’d need to take care of me a few more nights to return ‘em all.”

“I’m hoping I’ve got all the nights in the world now, Buck. Not planning on skipping out on me are ya?”

“Never.” Bucky promised, turning his head to look into Steve’s eyes.

“I remember nights when you were still skinny, used to get sick in the winter and I’d sit by you as you drifted off to sleep.”

“Yeah, you always did.”

“As you closed your eyes I’d press one kiss to your forehead, and a real gentle one to your lips. You know, to keep you safe from harm.” Bucky’s tone was wistful and his accent was all Brooklyn.

“You remember that, huh?” Steve asked, his quiet voice full of longing.

“How could a guy forget?”

Steve gave a deep chuckle and then leaned down, gave a kiss to Bucky’s forehead and pressed their lips together softly. Bucky smiled into the kiss.

“Good night, Buck.” Steve said, gently stroking Bucky’s hair. “You need your rest, okay? I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Night Stevie.” He muttered as his eyes fluttered shut.

Steve sank onto his bed, next to Bucky, and for the first time in years he felt at home.

The next few days would be rough, he knew, and the months would be even worse.

But they could face anything as long as they were together.


End file.
